


Liquor is Quicker

by Kristoff Bjorgman (KristoffBjorgman)



Series: Hansoff AU [6]
Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Drunkenness, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:35:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1204672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristoffBjorgman/pseuds/Kristoff%20Bjorgman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kristoff helps a drunken Hans back to their home but the ex-prince starts getting handsy in the sled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liquor is Quicker

The Humbleina pub on the outskirts of Arendelle town was a notorious drinking ground for the kingdom’s roughest, meanest-looking citizens. Nestled between a secret cockfighting arena and a not-so-secret whorehouse, it boasted the highest number of casualties-to-customers ratio despite also holding the title of most drinks served for four years running. Coincidentally, it was also the only establishment in town that allowed a certain ex-prince to cross its threshold.  
It was well past midnight, the shouting and hollering dying down to a low chatter as the pub’s patrons left for the night or passed out drunk in their seats. The soft squeak of wagon wheels and padded hooves against the weathered cobblestone was all but inaudible inside the building and in the darkness outside, a shadowy figure approached slowly.  
“Ugh,” Kristoff yawned as he pulled up alongside the pub’s dreary exterior. “Sven, why does he even still go here? You’d think that after all these months he would’ve found a better place to get drunk and cry.  
The reindeer frowned and pawed at the ground, but the man was too tired to try to speak for him.  
“Hang on buddy, I’ll be back soon.”  
Kristoff braced himself and pulled open the front door of the pub, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the brightness.

“Kristoooooff!” Hans leapt off his stool in excitement, spilling an entire stein of some kind of alcohol all over the poor man sat next to him. His shirt was undone to the fourth button and was rumpled at the bottom where he’d tried and failed to tuck it back into his pants. There was no sign of his jacket or ascot anywhere.  
The pub reeked of sweat and beer and Kristoff did all he could not to throw up at the vile combination of the two violating his nose. Stepping over a passed out man collapsed at the front of the building, he made his way over to the former prince, avoiding the occasional questionable stain on the rough wooden floorboards and toppled-over furniture.  
Hans stumbled over to meet him halfway, unknowingly dragging along the man attached to the shoulders that his arm was wrapped around.  
“Kristoff! You’ll never believe who I ran- ran into!”  
The ice cutter eyed the other man up and down suspiciously. He was about the same height as Hans, brown sideburns framing a skinny face sat under a mess of ruffled hair.  
“Hey, this is –whatwasyournameagain?- Fritz! That’s right! Fritzy Fritz! He’s one of that Duke of Schmebeltown’s bodyguards!”  
“Used to be,” the other man corrected with a vague smile on his face. “I haven’t worked for that old bastard in yeeears!”  
Fritz squatted down to do some kind of impression and Hans clasped both hands to his mouth in childish delight, giggling at the badly faked British accent. With no support left, the ex-bodyguard toppled over and landed face-first in a puddle of beer, loud snores beginning to pour from his mouth. This only seemed to amuse Hans more, and the redhead staggered across to find balance on Kristoff’s shoulders in between bursts of laughter.  
“Is he going to be okay?”  
“Sure he is! He’s got his buddy over there- hey, Dom! We need a little help over here!”  
A larger, older-looking man appeared out of nowhere and knelt down to attend to the figure asleep on the floor.  
“Dom’s a real good friend!” Hans stumbled back to slap the man on the back and missed, tripping over his own feet and falling to the ground. A fit of giggles erupted from the floor as the drunk ex-prince tried to pull himself back to his feet, stuck a hand in the middle of the puddle of beer and collapsed right back down on top of Fritz.  
“A reeeal good friend,” he whispered into Kristoff’s ear as the blonde bent over to pick him back up. Kristoff assumed Hans was trying to be seductive but the stench of alcohol on his breath was too overpowering to notice anything else. “If you know what I meeean. I’m talking, we could totally take both of them home with us, how about it?”  
“No, we’re leaving now.” Kristoff groaned in exasperation as he helped Hans to his feet.  
“Fiiine.” Hans began hobbling his way to the front door. “I’ll see you around, fellas!”  
The two men weren’t paying any attention to him, Fritz having apparently woken back up, his arms wrapped tight around Dom’s and their faces mashing together in a messy kiss.

“Aw, man. See what we’re missing out on?” Hans tripped and fell back into Kristoff’s body.  
“You didn’t… do anything with those guys, did you?”  
“What?! What kind of whore prince do you take me for? I’m not Drew, after all!” Hans burst out laughing, almost tumbling over his own feet. “Sorry ice man, I guess you’d have to know him to get the joke!”  
“I _do_ know your brother,” Kristoff reminded him. “So you weren’t getting up to anything…”  
“Of course not! I may have maybe suggested that I’m totally up for a four-way but I wouldn’t do anything like that unless you wanted to as well!” Hans grinned and reached up to press a finger against Kristoff’s nose. “Boop!”  
“How much exactly have you had to drink?”  
“Not a lot!”  
“Hans, you can’t even walk properly.”  
“Okay, maybe just a little bit more than usual. But it’s a special occasion!”  
“Good luck getting out of bed tomorrow morning because I won’t be helping you.”  
“Come on Kristoff, you didn’t even ask me what occasional it is! It’s been 2 whooole years since I left home! Seven hundred and twenty eleven days since I stopped being a prince and became a peasant like you!”  
“I don’t think it’s been exactly two years-“  
“But that’s okay, isn’t it ice man? I’m still your prince, aren’t I? You know, in the boudoir…” Hans enunciated the last word in the worst French accent Kristoff had ever heard, before collapsing into another fit of laughter, hanging onto the blonde man’s shoulders to keep him from falling over again. He stopped almost as suddenly as he had started, before a moment of clarity passed before his glassy eyes. “I just realised something, you know? I can’t even walk outside! You’re gonna need to carry me!”  
“You’ll be fine, just hang onto my shoulder and-“  
“No! You have to be the prince this time! Help me! Carry me onward, noble steed! Lift me up, just like you do…” his lips almost raked against Kristoff’s ear as he slurred the following line, “in the boudoir.”  
“If I carry you out of here will you stop saying the word boudoir?”  
“Deal! Now pick me up! Show all these thugs how a real gentleman treats a damsel in distress!”  
“In the 3 years I’ve known you,” Kristoff rolled his eyes and in one swift motion had his arms wrapped beneath the drunk man’s knees and shoulder blades, “I would never categorise you as a damsel in distress.”  
“Well these guys sure do!” Hans gestured a hand out toward the half-dozen or so men in the pub who were still conscious, wolf-whistling at them. He waved lazily at the crowd and leaned up to kiss Kristoff on the cheek. “Thankyou fellas, thankyou! You should see what he’s like in the… boudoir!”  
It took all the strength he had not to drop the man back onto the floor and leave, but Kristoff persevered, ignoring the catcalls as he carried the drunken redhead out of the pub. Sven and his sled were where he left them parked outside the dimly-lit building, the vehicle’s wheels lifting it high off the ground in place of its winter runners.

“You’re so good to me, you know that?” Hans sighed in contentment as he slid into the passenger’s seat of the sleigh, smirking absentmindedly at Kristoff as he piled in next to him. “None of my brothers would have done that for me, that’s for sure! Well, maybe Grant if I really begged but none of the rest of them would have come got me.”  
With a weak smile, Kristoff tugged at the reins and Sven began pulling the wagon through the town and back towards the north gate.  
Kristoff and Hans lived in a small house about half an hour out of Arendelle town – a compromise the solitary ice cutter made with the prince who found the idea of living isolated from other people terrifying.  
“It’s so cold! Why is it so cold?”  
“Probably because you’re only in a shirt. Where did your jacket even go, anyway?”  
“Oh right! We were playing strip poker and I lost it to a pair of queens.”  
“Strip poker?”  
“Wait, you didn’t let me finish! I lost it to a pair of queens… named Fritz and Dominik!” Hans burst out laughing again, his voice echoing out over the silent mountains. “Oh come on, that one was funny!”  
“Where did you even meet those two, anyway?”  
“Oh, they and I go way back! We fought the evil snow beast together! Fun times,” Hans sighed and relaxed back in his seat, resting his head against Kristoff’s shoulder.  
“Don’t fall asleep on me again, last time you did that you were almost knocked unconscious when your head hit the front of the sleigh.”  
“I’m not going to fall asleep! You’re just so warm.” He shifted positions until he was lay out across the length of the bench, head resting in Kristoff’s lap. “So warm…”  
The ice cutter felt a twinge in his pants as Hans brushed his ear up against Kristoff’s crotch.  
“Well, well, well! Looks like I’m not the only one who wanted to go out to play tonight!” the redhead began kneading into Kristoff’s groin with the back of his head. “Hey there little guy, you looking for something?”  
“Hans, now’s not the ti- ohh…”  
The ex-prince pressed down further with his skull and to his excitement found something pressing back against him. With a dramatic sigh, he lifted his body back into a sitting position, head leaning across Kristoff’s crotch, hands grabbing at the ice cutter’s pants, trying to pull them off and failing.  
“A little help here?”  
“You’re drunk, this isn’t a very good-“ Kristoff’s words were silenced as Hans bashed his face forward, lips eagerly pressing against cheek, nose, chin; tongue dancing in the dark until it found its way into open mouth; fingers still scrabbling at belted waist.  
Kristoff gave into it and let go of the reins, knowing that Sven already knew the way home. He lifted his body slightly and Hans found traction, ripping the man’s heavy woollen pants and cloth undergarment down to his knees. Kristoff was already semi-erect but the cold night air worked quickly on him and within moments he was stiff as a rock, almost painfully so. With a jerk, Hans pulled his knees apart, wrapping one arm around his thigh and the other behind his back for support.  
“Are you sure-“ Kristoff barely had a moment to adjust forward in his seat before Hans was upon him, liquor-soaked lips wrapping hungrily around his erection. The traces of alcohol in the redhead’s mouth stung against Kristoff’s sensitive tip but he ignored the pain, instead focusing on the hot tongue running up and down the length of his shaft and the hot panting escaping from the ex-prince.

If what Hans had said was true, that this was the second anniversary of his abdication, then it would have been three years exactly since the two of them met. Their first time together, the messy blowjob that quickly evolved into an even messier fuck was more an act of curiosity and lust than one of passion, but the pair of men had somehow managed to brave the odds and remain together, even during the year the prince spent in prison.  
Hans was inexperienced, mumbling, sloppy their first time. Nothing at all like the seasoned professional expertly dancing his tongue against the underside of Kristoff’s cockhead, even in the drunken state he was in now.

His head bobbed up and down in rhythm as he began to take inch after inch of the ice harvester’s erection into his mouth, swallowing him down until his lips pressed tight against the base of his shaft. Saliva began to build up in his mouth and trickle down Kristoff’s thigh, collecting in a pool on the floor of the sled. Hans tried to contort his face into a smile, a task deemed impossible with the meat in his mouth, and his tongue began to force its way up and down the underside of Kristoff’s cock. Waves of pleasure rolled down the blonde man’s spine as the back of Hans’s tongue rubbed against the sensitive skin connecting the tip of his erection to his foreskin. Rough fingers gripped tight into the redhead’s messy hair for support and almost instinctively, Kristoff began to guide his lover’s movement, pulling his head up until he could feel lips pressed tight against his tip and forcing it back down, thrusting his pelvis in his seat to meet the back of Hans’s throat.  
Hans pushed the cock out of his mouth and wrapped a hand around its girth, coating his palm with his own sticky saliva. He grabbed it at the base and experimentally began to hit the tip against the flat of his tongue, each wet slapping sound turning both men on even more. Holding it in place, he tightened his lips back around Kristoff’s cock and rolled his tongue all over, sucking at the pink head like it were a boiled sweet. The tang of hot precum hit his tongue as it began to leak out of the tip and he pulled the man’s erection straight back out of his mouth, not yet ready for Kristoff to shoot his load. The ice cutter was given a moment to regain himself before Hans pulled himself up from the crotch he’d been servicing and messily pressed in for another kiss. The faint remnants of alcohol were all but overpowered by the taste of sex, heat and his own precum as Kristoff accepted the roving tongue into his own mouth, and Hans began breathing heavily, panting, as he chewed at the ice cutter’s lower lip. He rolled off the bench of the sled, dropping to his knees on the wooden floor. Pulling out of the kiss, he spat into his hands, gripped Kristoff’s length and pulled the foreskin down tight, tighter than was comfortable, before dipped his head back down to take it in his mouth. Kristoff felt something prodding underneath his testicles and shifted further back on the bench, spreading his legs right out to allow access to the wet fingers probing at his ass. Two of the digits found their target and he cried out in shock as Hans rammed them roughly into his entrance.  
“Dawm… are woo still this woose from earwier today?” The redhead stopped sucking, Kristoff’s cock halfway down his throat, and looked up at the ice cutter with two big, green eyes.  
Kristoff ignored him, pressing his hand against the man’s head to force him back down to what he was doing.

They’d fucked before Hans went out for the night, quickly and roughly to relieve some tension, and the combination of olive oil and cum still coating the walls of Kristoff’s insides lubricated the exploring fingers quickly. Hans was anything but gentle as he pushed further and further into the ice cutter and the added effect of the sled rolling along the bumpy road had Kristoff melt like putty around his digits. They found their target quickly, pressing down hard into his prostate, rubbing against it, pinching at it between fingertips as Kristoff writhed about. His hole clamped tight around Hans’s knuckles and before he could stop himself he came, the orgasm amplified by the rough fingers probing at his pleasure gland, his cock stiffening hard as he shot his load into his lover’s mouth. Hans gulped down each cumshot eagerly, pulling his fingers back out of Kristoff’s ass to grab the man tight around the waist as he greedily swallowed each stream of cum.

Kristoff fell back on the bench, tried to pull away but fingers dug into his skin as Hans held him tight in place and continued sucking. Pleasure quickly turned to pain and back to pleasure, his sensitive, spent cock sending waves of conflicting sensations straight through his body. Toes curled and fingers formed into fists as every muscle in his body tensed up and still the ex-prince relentlessly carried on, each thrust of his lips from tip to mid-shaft building up pressure until it was too much for Kristoff to handle and he went limp.  
Hans stopped, picking himself up off the floor of the sled and stumbling out onto the ground below. Kristoff opened his eyes to get his bearings, his senses slowly returning to him and the first thing he noticed was that they’d stopped travelling. Parked outside their cottage in its usual spot the sled was Sven-less, the reindeer having apparently pulled himself free from his simple harness and gone to his barn, all too aware of the privacy the two men needed.

Kristoff tried to stand up to step out of the sled and fell back down, his legs still shaky. In a haze he grabbed his pants and lifted himself out onto the grass, tripping over his own feet and falling in a heap next to Hans. The two men helped each other inside, the redhead still slightly groggy from the alcohol and the ice cutter recovering from his orgasm.  
He barely registered unlocking the door, one arm wrapped around Hans’s waist, pulling the man into the warmth of their fireplace. They staggered across to the bed and collapsed on top of each other, the promise of sleep the only thing on Kristoff’s mind. Off came his vest, his shirt, his shoes, thrown into a heap in the corner of the room. Looking across to Hans he could see the ex-prince doing the same, peeling off his layers of clothing. The man paused to hiccup and Kristoff groaned as he remembered he still had one thing to take care of.  
Pulling himself back off the bed, Kristoff stumbled naked across the cottage to the water pump on the other side of the room, grabbing a small vase of wildflowers Hans had picked and dumping its contents unceremoniously into the sink. He pumped water until the vase was almost full and carried it back across to Hans.  
“Here, drink this. It’ll help.”  
Hans looked up, his unbuttoned shirt hanging limply off one arm and his entire face melted into a smile.  
“You’re so good to me, y’know that!”  
“I know, you said that already. Come on, drink up. I’m not dealing with you hungover tomorrow.”  
“No, I really, really mean it! You always take care of me and look after me,” Hans took the water and drank deeply until it was empty, “and I love you, ice man.”  
Kristoff sat the empty vase on the nightstand and sat back down stiffly onto the bed. In the three years they’d known each other, Hans had never come anywhere close to professing anything close to love. Kristoff wasn’t even sure the man knew the emotion, growing up with abuse and that long year in prison leaving the ex-prince broken inside.  
He managed to stammer out a soft “I… uh, love you too,” as he helped the redhead out of his clothes, trying his best to ignore the semi-hard penis that flopped out of his pants.  
“I know that, dummy.”  
Kristoff lay himself out flat on top of the bed, hands behind his head as he tried to fall asleep but warm arms wrapped around his bare chest and Hans was upon him, nibbling at his neck, his nipples, his ear.  
“Go to sleep,” he managed to mumble before wet lips met his own. The kiss was brief before Hans pulled away, nuzzling his head into Kristoff’s armpit.  
“Come on, you owe me for the sled!”  
“It’s late and you’re drunk, go to sleep.”  
“Fine,” came an exasperated sigh, “I’ll do it myself then.”  
The arms pulled away and Kristoff closed his eyes, settling back in the bed. It wasn’t long before the rhythmic sounds of faint, wet slapping caught his ear. Peeking out from one eyelid, he saw Hans, fully nude, freckled back arched up off the bed, thighs spread wide apart as he frantically tugged at his erection. Soft whimpers and pants escaped the redhead’s lips and beads of sweat trickled down his pink flushed face but he kept his pace, fist pumping up and down the length of his cock. Heavy balls thudded softly against sweat-soaked skin with each thrust and the tender head of his erection glistened in the light of the fireplace.  
“Okay,” Kristoff sighed as his own cock began to harden at the sight, “give it here.”  
Hans fell back onto the bed in exhaustion, throwing an arm around Kristoff’s broad shoulders to steady himself as the ice cutter wrapped a palm around his girth. Precum was dribbling from the tip, running down the length of the shaft to collect at the top of Kristoff’s hand and he used this to his advantage as he began slowly jerking Hans off. Judging by how much he was leaking, the ice cutter knew the redhead was almost close to finishing and he strained his neck sideways to kiss his lover. Boyfriend? Partner? They hadn't exactly taken the time to define whatever it was they had going on and at the moment he didn't care. Hans pressed forwards into the kiss, gnawing at Kristoff’s lip, wrapping his arm tighter and tighter around his shoulders.  
“I’m about to…”  
Kristoff silenced him once again with his mouth and began jerking at Hans’s cock in an erratic pattern. It began to tighten hard beneath his grip, the panting growing louder and louder and with a tired smile he gave it one final thrust as the ex-prince came.

Hans cried out in relief and tensed up, pulling out of the embrace to arch his back across the bed before melting into the mattress as one, two strings of cum shot up into the air and landed with a wet splat against his sweat-drenched chest. His cock dribbled a little before starting to go soft and Kristoff collected it in his palm, leaning over to scoop up the small puddles of cum splattered out between the redhead’s nipples and licked it off his fingers, too tired to clean it up any other way.  
“Thanks, ice man. I don’t deserve a boyfriend like you.”  
 _Well, there’s_ that _sorted out._  
Hans rolled over onto his side, curling up in a ball as Kristoff looked down to his own cock, erect once again. He groaned and sat back up, spreading his knees as far apart as he could get them, wanting to get it over and done with as fast as possible before he could finally get some sleep. He grabbed his shaft with one rough palm and began jerking off, two fingers of his other hand quickly finding their way back inside his wet asshole and within minutes he was shuddering as his second orgasm of the night rocked his body. One small cumshot landed on his belly and he quickly caught in in his fingers and licked it up before his brain had the chance to tell him not to.  
“Sorry about that,” he wrapped his arms around Hans’s body, pulling him into a hug on the bed, “I couldn’t help myself. Hans?”  
The redhead was fast asleep, hair strewn messily against his face, a small patch of drool collecting on the sheet from his open mouth. Kristoff smiled weakly and lay his own head down onto a pillow, the warmth of his lover, no, boyfriend’s body quickly drifting him off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Drunk Hansoff, as promised!
> 
> Check out kristoffbjorgman (main) and gay-kristoff (nsfw) on Tumblr to send in a prompt!


End file.
